


Small Cares

by perlaret



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14448930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perlaret/pseuds/perlaret
Summary: Poe Dameron was pretty sure he was the last person in the galaxy meant to be put in charge of requisitions, budgets, or the even worse combination thereof: requisition budgets.





	Small Cares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ljparis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/gifts).



The aftermath was a relief.

Poe threw himself into the work, rejoined as they were with the other scattered forces that made up the Resistance. They’d taken heavy losses across the board, and so heavy lifting was now required to make the best of what was left. Still, they’d survived. Poe figured that was something. He wasn’t one to dwell overmuch on things if he could help it, but it was hard to find the time in he wanted to, because suddenly he was being pulled in a dozen different directions at any given time.

It took about a week before he finally cracked.

“Why are you asking me?” Poe asked, perhaps more sharply than was necessary. “When have I ever handled the requisition budgets?”

“Dunno,” Snap said, unruffled. “But the General seems to think you are now.”

Poe pinched the bridge of his nose, taking that in. His attention on it at last, everything fell into an obvious pattern, as apparent as predicting a TIE Fighter’s trajectory. “...Hell,” he said. “Let me get back to you on that?”

-

The General wasn’t hard to find. She never was. It was just that, as of late, she’d taken a step back, and Poe hadn’t realized it, too preoccupied with the ins and outs of everything she’d apparently started funneling his way.

It felt wrong. 

Leia was seated when he found her, listening to some report being delievered by Ieren Unath, one of the remaining strategists that had previously worked on board the Ninka. She was looking better, but still tired. One hand rested atop the cane she’d taken to using. Poe wondered distantly if she would ever stop using it – the thought wasn’t a welcome one. It called up a distant sadness that felt too residual, like the dregs of a bad memory.

He lingered a moment too long at the door, and before he could go further, Leia glanced up, meeting his eyes. She waved him forward even as she nodded to the aide, saying, “Thank you, Ieren. We’ll definitely need to make contact. Coordinate with the usuals to make sure it gets done.”

“On it,” said Ieren with a sharp nod, before turning to go. Her gaze scanned over Poe a little two sharply as she passed him, but she gave him a polite nod as well and carried on without missing a step. Everyone of them was carrying on, best they could.

“Poe,” Leia said by way of greeting. 

“Leia,” Poe returned, striding forward. 

She pointed him to a seat with a raised eyebrow that didn’t broker argument. “Something on your mind?”

Poe settled in as directed. He had never lost the instinct he’d had since the first time they’d met – Leia’s mere presence made his spine stand a little straighter, his chin lift a little higher. She had that kind of authority about her, and Poe had never thought Leia a person that any kind of frailty could touch.

(He remembered being a boy too bent on play to do his chores and how his mother’s reprimands, rare but stern when needed, had made him jump to attention. He remembered the way Shara Bey’s voice had roughened and cracked, when the illness that plagued her worsened. It’s not the same. It could never be, but still...)

He figured he’d best cut to the chase. “Requisition budgets?” Poe asked, letting his tone do the talking.

“Well, Commander,” Leia said. “Someone’s got to do them.”

“Yeah,” Poe said. “But I figured you’d pick someone who’s, you know, handy with that kind of thing.” He opened his arms, inviting an honest look his way. “You know how it is with me. No one’s ever had to hold me at the business end of a blaster to get me to do a report, but I’m not exactly leaping at the opportunity, either.”

Leia laughed, clasping her hands together over the handle of her cane. Careworn and tired as she’d looked, ever since that near miss on the Raddus, her brown eyes remained as warm as ever. 

“Let me put it this way. A leader,” she said, “knows what it’s like to handle on all kinds of terrain.

Poe couldn’t help the scoff that escaped him, but it was more self-deprecating that scornful – a stubborn offset to the prickle of pride that swelled up in his chest almost simultaneously. “I know we’ve got slim pickings right now, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got better options,” he said. “I mean, hey, most leaders don’t toss chairs.”

At that, Leia bent her head, amused. “You’re not the first cocksure young man with a temper I’ve ever had to deal with.”

The words themselves were wry but there was a sad, wistful timbre to Leia’s voice that gave Poe pause. Sure, she could be talking about any number of people, but some things were too recent to discount entirely. 

(They’re of an age, Poe thinks, but there are things Poe could never fathom doing to his family. Least of all...)

Leia seemed to catch the mood, lifting her eyes to consider him before continuing: “Besides, we’re close enough to financial ruin at this point, we might as well get some fresh eyes on things.”

Poe sighed, but with good humor. “Mission accepted, General. I appreciate the bar being set so low.”

“Just don’t knock your head trying to get under it,” Leia said, dryer than a desert at high noon. More earnestly, she added: “I don’t expect I’ll be disappointed.”

It was funny, Poe thought, how so few words could bring such a deep sense of relief, one he’d been needing for some time now.

“No,” Poe said, head held high. “I don’t suspect you will.”


End file.
